


Where Are You Tonight

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: A Combination Of Skill And Luck [4]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Alcohol, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, implied internalized homophobia, questionable decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: It’s important, Dale decides, that he made what on the surface would seem like a bad decision - a decision that would have most people questioning where they’ve been the night before.He was always going to end up here.
Relationships: Dale Cooper/Harry Truman
Series: A Combination Of Skill And Luck [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617793
Comments: 16
Kudos: 40





	Where Are You Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Unfinished Papers: Twin Peaks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960299) by [the_technicolor_whiscash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash). 



> Inspired by the third-to-last snippet of the above work, which I was very inspired by and essentially ripped off for my own use with permission from its author :D

Very briefly, so briefly in fact that the next morning he’ll only vaguely recall it happening, Dale awakes lying facedown and with an absolutely terrible headache. Ordinarily he never sleeps facedown, and with this realization also comes the understanding that he is, in fact, still significantly intoxicated. The small corner of his mind capable of semi-rational thought supposes he simply fell into his bed. He knows why this is happening - hazy ideas of multiple alcohol-heavy beverages come to him.

Gradually Dale rolls onto his back into somewhat of a sprawled position, arms spread wide. His right hand finds a warm and solid object on the bed with him, but the small world of his hotel room is becoming fuzzy again and he elects not to think particularly hard about what it might be at this time.

Instead of assessing the situation further, he falls back to sleep.

* * *

When morning arrives, the headache is still present, and Dale groans while rolling onto his side. He has no desire to remove himself from the cozy sanctuary of his sheets and become part of the waking world - the most recent time he’s experienced a hangover was (at minimum, but likely much longer) over five years prior and he’s no longer young enough to shake one off without a great deal of effort. Still, he must. Albert will be performing the autopsy and toxicology on Leland today and Dale should be present for that.

Rolling to the opposite side and only parting his eyelids enough to squint, Dale’s mildly surprised to discover that the half of the bed he doesn’t inhabit is extremely disheveled in a manner that strongly suggests another occupant. He feels with his palm: cooling, but still just warm enough to confirm that until recently there was a second person here.

Dale rubs his face with both hands for possibly a much longer moment than he can afford. It was admittedly irresponsible for him to partake in an unnecessary alcohol binge with his colleagues last night, though it did seem to have cathartic effects on Harry and Albert both at the time. Understandably, Harry in particular had been distressed at witnessing Leland’s fate in the station’s interrogation room yesterday afternoon. Dale had ultimately allowed himself to be persuaded to drink with them mainly out of solidarity - Harry shouldn’t have been left to be miserable alone (or to be miserable in the company of Albert, which would arguably be even worse). And so Dale drank. He regrets it horribly this morning.

Ultimately, he does force himself to get out of bed, largely out of the overwhelmingly desperate need to urinate. Dale orders his morning into steps: Dress himself. Brush teeth. Plenty of water. Aspirin. Coffee. Possibly more water. Breakfast, as greasy as possible. A second cup of coffee. Meet Albert and Harry at the station, who are both hopefully in better shape than he is. He will accomplish all of these small tasks if he does them one at a time, without hurrying.

Dale makes it to the “second cup of coffee” stage without many issues, but as the aspirin begins to take effect and his mind clears some, he starts to feel pressed to work out who was in his room last night. He returns there and examines everything - there is no evidence of sex having taken place, surprisingly. He knows this is a good thing in any capacity, because undertaking such activities while intoxicated often puts people on the fast track to regrets. He does discover a sock that the person left behind - an ordinary black sock, made of wool, likely the kind worn under boots and not anything Dale owns for himself. All of his socks are cotton. However the sock is a similar size to his own foot, implying that its owner is another man. Interesting.

There isn’t much evidence to be had from the bed. Dale is forced to resort to a more crude method of investigation here… he braces himself and smells the pillow. Some amount of sweat, but not enough to completely overpower the faint scent of deodorant. It seems familiar enough to him and he decides it belongs to someone he knows. This narrows down the options to either Albert or Harry, and given that Albert wears the same socks as Dale due to uniform regulations, this means that Harry was sleeping in Dale’s bed last night.

It’s an interesting, if distressing, thought. Dale works very hard to maintain his professionalism on every case that he works and, until recently, this one was no different. He’s been aware over the previous few days that there have been feelings developing beyond friendship and camaraderie between them, but Dale will be leaving Twin Peaks soon and it may be less painful for him to leave if these emotions are simply never acknowledged.

At least, he reasons, they didn’t have sex.

The bedding is clean, all the objects in his shower have remained undisturbed since yesterday. There are no condoms missing from his shaving kit (not that he would’ve been present enough to retrieve one last night as it stands). There would’ve been some type of mess left behind, no matter how small, at their level of drunkenness. Nothing of the sort is to be found in Dale’s room. He collects the sock and leaves to begin his work day, discovering his car outside with a note taped to the steering wheel:

 _You’re welcome._ _  
_ _-Hawk_

Arriving at the station, Dale is still debating how he’ll go about returning Harry’s missing sock when he approaches Lucy’s window.

“Good morning, Agent Cooper.”

“Morning, Lucy. Are Harry and Albert already waiting in the conference room? I’m several minutes later than I intended.”

“Agent Rosenfield was only here for five minutes,” she answers. “He said for me to tell you that he’s already at the morgue and will hopefully get to leave very soon once he’s done with Mr. Palmer there, and he also said for me to tell you that you need to talk to him but he wouldn’t tell me why even though I asked him several times to explain what he meant. He was really rude about it.”

“Yes, unfortunately that’s standard operating procedure for Albert,” Dale sighs. “Is Sheriff Truman here yet?”

“No, he called and said he won’t be in today because he drank too much and isn’t feeling well.” Lucy glances around before looking back at him and speaking in a low voice. “Agent Cooper, please don’t tell anyone about this, but he seemed very sad over the phone and I don’t think it has to do with being hungover because he’s come into work hungover before without being sad about it. It’s a little concerning and I don’t know what made him sad, unless he’s sad about Mr. Palmer but that wouldn’t make very much sense because-”

“Lucy,” Dale interrupts, holding up his hand, “I’ll handle it as soon as I’ve finished speaking with Albert. Thank you for the updates.”

* * *

“Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?” are the first words out of Albert’s mouth.

“Good morning, Albert, it’s nice to see you, too. I’m glad that you’re not too badly affected by the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed last night,” Dale answers.

Albert rolls his eyes. “Coop, you took that lumbering idiot home with you last night. Anything you’d like to share?”

“Albert speaking frankly that’s none of your business, and even if it were within the scope of your concern it would still be highly unprofessional to discuss my personal life during work hours.”

“You do realize you’ve just told me everything I need to know by not telling me anything.”

Dale glares at his colleague. “Albert, I understand it’s early in the day, but have you discovered anything yet?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know. This time I brought along my own kits so that I don’t have to struggle with bronze-age relics at least. Now, back to the matter at hand: I can’t speak for the populace at large here considering on average they seem to have ten-watt bulbs barely keeping their brains open for business, but I would have to be blind, deaf, and horribly concussed not to notice how you two look at each other.”

“Albert-”

“Coop, he’s been drooling after you every time I’ve looked at him since I got here.”

“ _Albert-_ ”

“Did you get to wake up warm and cozy in his manly embrace or were both of you on opposite sides of the bed snoring and drooling?”

Albert’s enjoying this far too much and Dale struggles not to let his discomfort show on his face. “I woke up by myself this morning,” he admits slowly. “Once I’ve finished here, I’m going to attempt to have a rational discussion with him on this very topic.”

Shockingly, Albert seems to have the barest hint of concern in his expression at that. “Really. Hm.” He frowns. “Internalized homophobia and some grade-A repression skills would be my guess, mixed with a healthy amount of ‘he only fucked me because he was drunk’.”

“We didn’t have sex.”

“I see. Maybe you should’ve.”

“Albert, please stop this.”

“Yeah, I stand corrected.” Albert appraises Dale. “He would’ve been the one doing the fucking.”

“Albert, enough.”

“Tell me I’m wrong, Coop.”

For all his talents, unless it’s directly work-related Dale tends to be an absolutely terrible liar. He swallows. “I’m not interested in discussing this any further. Call the station if you find anything here.”

* * *

Dale knocks on the door and stands quietly. From within, he faintly detects stumbling footsteps approach and then the door opens to show Harry still in most of yesterday’s crumpled uniform, barefoot and missing his pistol belt. He takes one look at Dale and visibly cringes.

“Coop. Uh. Hi.”

“Harry, are you feeling alright?”

“I drank too much.”

Dale reaches into the pocket of his trench coat. “I came to return your sock. You left it under my bed.”

Harry stares at it and despair creeps into his demeanor. He nods after a moment. “You wanna come in?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Harry makes a _come on then_ motion with one hand and closes the door once Dale has stepped inside. They sit in Harry’s kitchen and Dale watches him swallow something approaching half a bottle of tylenol with barely a sip of water to wash it down.

“So I guess you’re here to talk about that.”

“I am, yes.”

“Okay.” Harry rubs his forehead. “Coop, I… I guess there’s not really a whole lotta point in beating around the bush on this one, but I woke up in my underwear in your bed.”

“Presumably because sleeping in your clothes would be too uncomfortable,” Dale offers. “My most educated guess says we were too exhausted and drunk for anything to occur beyond what was likely several clumsy kisses.”

“What?”

“I looked very carefully through my room and the bathroom. There was absolutely no evidence that any behaviors of a sexual nature took place.”

Harry shakes his head and looks down at the table. “I still shouldn’a been there at all, Coop.”

“I’m not sure I agree. While it would initially be easier for us had this not occurred, it seems likely the two of us would’ve spent some amount of time wondering how things might’ve turned out if we’d only admitted our feelings.”

“But you’re gonna leave, now.”

“I am,” Dale cedes, “but even in such a short time I’ve gained a significant appreciation for your corner of the world, Harry. I can assure you with a large amount of certainty that I’ll be returning to Twin Peaks many times for reasons not relating to law enforcement.” He pauses. “Albert took great pleasure from grilling me about my romantic interest in you this morning. Apparently it’s been obvious to him from the start.”

Harry snorts. “Hawk’s been asking me for over a week why I haven’t made a move on you, too.”

“It would make us terrible friends to disappoint them, don’t you think?”

This draws a miserable chuckle. “Coop, my job is an elected position. People will riot.”

“With all the strangeness that occurs in this town, I somehow doubt this would do much besides raise some eyebrows,” Dale argues gently. He gradually reaches across the table to rest a palm across Harry’s knuckles, and shortly following Harry’s fingers close around his. Dale feels warmth spreading across his nerves and experiences a sensation akin to an intangible hole in his being having been filled. “Harry, I don’t begrudge your hesitance, but I’d also like you to prominently feature in my positive memories of this place for the times when I’m away.”

“Coop, I haven’t… I’ve never been in a relationship with another man. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“In principle it’s virtually identical to having relationships with women. You spend time together, ascertain which activities you both enjoy pursuing, and ultimately if it’s successful you allow yourself to become emotionally vulnerable with each other and possibly progress to a state of cohabitation.”

Harry nods. “You probably think that’s comforting for me.”

“It isn’t?”

“I’m not great at relationships with women, either.”

“Due to personal failings or limited opportunities?”

“Mostly the second one,” Harry admits.

“Then I’d like to present myself as one such opportunity for you, Harry.”

A head shake, but also a smile. “Okay, Coop. So what do I start with?”

“I’m sure the time provided by a relatively uneventful work day will allow me to come up with a jumping-off point for you.” Dale squeezes Harry’s hand slightly. “Incidentally I have several weeks of vacation time piled up. The majority of the time I have no life outside of my job and I only rarely get sick, so it’s reasonable to say I would be able to remain here for some amount of time even with the case having been concluded.”

Harry nods. “And you wanna spend those however many weeks with me.”

“If you’ll let me.”

“I’m not that exciting to be around, Coop.”

“Harry, I’m going to ask you to let me be the judge of that, and I’ll also take this opportunity to inform you that I’m not necessarily looking for exciting. I’ve been shot at multiple times on the job, which is very exciting, and frankly my relationships could stand to be something else entirely.”

Harry laughs. “Fair enough.” He rubs his hand over his fluffy curls. “So how many vacation days?”

“Between four and seven weeks if I remember correctly. A significant amount of time in any case.”

Harry nods. “Sounds good to me. I can see about maybe getting some time off, too.” He pauses. “But you’ll still leave eventually.”

“I will. It won’t be permanent,” Dale promises.

“Maybe the FBI will let you live here.”

Dale considers this briefly. “It would be difficult, but not impossible. If you want I can speak with Gordon about it. I’d still be away for between two and five weeks at a time on average.”

Harry’s demeanor fears disappointment, now. “Probably not worth it then, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he counters. “In fact it’s a decision I’ve been entertaining very seriously since shortly after I arrived.”

“Anything to do with me?”

Dale smiles. “You certainly don’t hurt things any, Harry.”

Somehow, without further discussion, they both lean forward over Harry’s small kitchen table in one motion to meet for a kiss. Dale’s eyes close impulsively and their free hands find each other. It’s important, he decides, that he made what on the surface would seem like a bad decision - a decision that would have most people questioning where they’ve been the night before. That decision brought him to Harry, which is where he should be. If anyone asks where he is tonight, the answer is simply that he’s where he belongs. He was always going to end up here.

**Author's Note:**

> All my Twin Peaks fics can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=127943&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Aaron_The_8th_Demon).
> 
> Comments are welcomed and encouraged if you have them :)


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